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avesmaria's review against another edition
4.0
I read this book in one sitting, partially because it's not too long and partially because it is quite interesting. Dr. Sacks presents short essays about some of the patients he's encountered as a neurologist, divided into a few categories and supplemented with postscripts and introductions. Highlights are a man with prosopagnosia (the inability to see faces and recognize individuals) who sings his way through each activity in order to avoid mentally coming apart at the abstraction his brain imposes upon the world; a teenager presumed dull and retarded with a poetic soul and gift for theatre; a man with severe amnesia whose mind is stuck in 1945. Parts of the book are a bit dry and make a lot of references to neurological/psychiatric research that weren't that interesting (and I assume this is because the book is intended for both his colleagues and the general public), but the tales of his patients are captivating. Dr. Sacks writes with a pathos and sensitivity to his patients that clearly shows the respect he holds for them and his profession. I found the most interesting aspects of the book to be the parts when Dr. Sacks meditates on the inner lives or "souls" of people with severe neurological deficits - or surpluses - and where the distinction lies between one's disease and one's true essence or identity. He does seem to try very hard to understand the "is" of the people he is helping so that they can live lives as fulfilling as possible within the characteristics of their conditions.
hikikomorka's review against another edition
3.0
Very interesting clinical cases, however it (at least my second edition) lacks some footnotes about our current knowledge about these or similar cases so we could understand them better. Oliver Sacks had a great level of empathy, if all neurologists, psychiatrists, general doctors would have his understanding and interest for patients, world would be better place.
emzbeez's review against another edition
3.0
It's been years since I've read a psychological non-fiction book and I've read so many wonderful reviews on Oliver Sacks' books that I finally decided to give it a shot. All in all, I forgot many of the psychological terms and there are so many in the book. There is terminology that I've never had the pleasure of studying or learning. I disliked the parts where Sacks tells me to check future chapters on specific terms/theories. If I did that, I would have to read the future chapter/case study and then go back to the current case study... I assume I was supposed to read it like a textbook, to study the chapters and cases that Sacks came across in his career, and not a reading book for enjoyment. Even though most of the book was difficult to get through because of the sheer amount of psychological/neurological terminology used, the case studies were still interesting to read about. There were some case studies that left me perplexed because Sacks never went into details about theories or thoughts on what might be "wrong" with the patient. There were chapters that would end suddenly and I would expect to find an explanation in the Postscript only to find none.
ellaisreading1234's review against another edition
informative
medium-paced
4.5
I don't think I'm quite at the stage where I can fully appreciate this book but it is fascinating to read
michinio's review against another edition
5.0
ბოლოსკენ ცოოოოოოტა გაწელილი და repetitive მომეჩვენა, მარა შეიძლება მარტო მომეჩვენა :)
bookishsumaiyah's review against another edition
5.0
A well-written non fiction book about the peculiarities of neurological diseases and how indicators of genius and brilliance can be found in places in which you least expect. Oliver Sacks lovingly describe each patient and their uniqueness in different clinical stories, and sets a gold-standard of neurologists word wide to perceive their patients more than just symptoms alone. Sacks language is cherry-picked to do his patience justice, and this creates one of the most beautiful enduring writing you will ever read:
“Empirical science told me there was not - but empirical science, empiricism, takes no account of the soul, no account of what constitutes and determines personal being. Perhaps there is a philosophical as well as a clinical lesson here: that in Korsakov's, or dementia, or other such catastrophes, however great the organic damage and Humean dissolution, there remains the undiminished possibility of reintegration by art, by communion, by touching the human spirit: and this can be preserved in what seems at first a hopeless state of neurological devastation.”
- Oliver Sacks, “The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat”, p.42
“And not just stories - poetry too. This seemed a deep need or hunger in Rebecca - a necessary form of nourishment, of reality, for her mind. Nature was beautiful, but mute. It was not enough. She needed the entire world re-presented to her in verbal images, in language, and seemed to have little difficult following the metaphors and symbols, in striking contrast to her incapacity with simple propositions and instructions. The language of feeling, of the concrete, of the image and symbol formed a world she loved and, to a remarkable extent, could enter. Though conceptually inept, she was at home with poetic language, and was herself, in a stumbling, touching way, a sort of ‘primitive’, natural poet.
- Oliver Sacks, “The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat.”
“Empirical science told me there was not - but empirical science, empiricism, takes no account of the soul, no account of what constitutes and determines personal being. Perhaps there is a philosophical as well as a clinical lesson here: that in Korsakov's, or dementia, or other such catastrophes, however great the organic damage and Humean dissolution, there remains the undiminished possibility of reintegration by art, by communion, by touching the human spirit: and this can be preserved in what seems at first a hopeless state of neurological devastation.”
- Oliver Sacks, “The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat”, p.42
“And not just stories - poetry too. This seemed a deep need or hunger in Rebecca - a necessary form of nourishment, of reality, for her mind. Nature was beautiful, but mute. It was not enough. She needed the entire world re-presented to her in verbal images, in language, and seemed to have little difficult following the metaphors and symbols, in striking contrast to her incapacity with simple propositions and instructions. The language of feeling, of the concrete, of the image and symbol formed a world she loved and, to a remarkable extent, could enter. Though conceptually inept, she was at home with poetic language, and was herself, in a stumbling, touching way, a sort of ‘primitive’, natural poet.
- Oliver Sacks, “The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat.”